Tag Archives: poem

Gist

Posted on February 23, 2018 by John Biscello

The manic blush and titter of young love is no serum nor mirage, but rather the gist of bloom martyred so soon to thorns.

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Cherish

Posted on February 23, 2018 by John Biscello

This side of dream, to marvel in sheer trespass and longing, to engage the mystery and riot of skin, by touch and flagrant cherish.

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Bask

Posted on February 23, 2018 by John Biscello

Rapt, in gratitude, the writer fasting on silence, and slimmest wisps, to gain Beauty’s favor and superlative bask, beyond recognition.  

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Bough

Posted on February 22, 2018 by John Biscello

Thick blossoms of snow caking the comb-teeth of pines– To rivet, chastely, sublime.

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Grasp

Posted on February 22, 2018 by John Biscello

Dawn’s broken promise, an arterial rupturing of light bleeding fevered gold through drawn, dusty blinds, morning, slow to rise, small hands reach out and cannot grasp forever.

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First Steps

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

It is not about holding her perfect, just so, in a prescribed manner, but rather, can you slowpour your breath into one another’s hips and clefts, while swaying? It is the mutual pressing of scars together, a controlled friction that … Continue reading →

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Burn While Reading

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

Touch, how her body becomes a pulsing slate of Braille, your fingers, unfinished, running on

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Liason

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

Adore, the charmed offspring of Love’s prickly liason with Innocence before it ripens and falls. 

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Tilt

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

A mirror, tilted, starkly pooling lovers self-similar turns and views of each other: I am I, you are you, qualifiers blurred and dissolved in a furious crossing of ritual desires.

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The Upstart Scarecrow

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

(Listen to the spoken word track here.) There he goes um-humh that’s him Willy Shakes the upstart scarecrow and derelict poet of the barrio and bodegas— gin rummy seizures and shaker of visions— hangnail to a scab dude rips it up … Continue reading →

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